


Lipstick and Lace

by Ramadiii



Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, I'm back!, Jack is Australian, Kinktober 2019, Lingerie, Multi, No Condom, Rough Sex, Safe sex though, Smut, Triple Agent!Rumlow, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, crotchless panties, triple agent!Rollins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21647611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramadiii/pseuds/Ramadiii
Summary: When one of your partner is out of the country modern day communication is key.Prompt:12. Lingerie13. Exhibitionism
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Reader, Brock Rumlow/You, Jack Rollins/Reader, Jack Rollins/You
Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506656
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Lipstick and Lace

**Author's Note:**

> A HUUUUUGE thank you to @DancesWithApathy for commenting on every single one of my Kinktober posts, you really made me want to pick up the pen again! <3  
> Also, as always, a big thank you to Werebird for always supporting me in my kinky endeavors!

_“My place. 8 o’clock. Bring the package.”_  
You check the message one last time as you enter the building.   
You’re on time.  
Your legs are shaking as you press your hand against the finger print scanner to access the elevator, they have been unsteady ever since you received the message.   
At work.   
During a meeting.  
With Captain America sitting across from you.  
You could have killed Brock if you hadn’t wanted to fuck his brains out.   
Jack is out of town, something about personal security for a SHIELD associate somewhere in Europe, which has left the commander without adult supervision for a whole week.   
He’s usually not so bad but since he tore a rotator cuff and his doctor put him on medical leave he’s been bored out of his mind and free to harass you during work hours.   
The ‘package’ he’s referring to is your birthday present, a very expensive lingerie set in red lace, fitting like a second skin underneath your dress. If lingerie was involved it tended to lead to a show and a dress was just better for visual effect.   
There was a reason most undercover missions involved female agents in dresses.   
You try not to chew your lips as you knock on the door, the lipstick might claim to be smear proof but you don’t want to take any chances. Besides, there are many other ways of testing that, your mind supplies and a tingle makes its way down your spine just as Brock opens the door.  
He looks as good as ever, even unshaven and with his right arm in a sling.   
"If you weren't injured I'd punch you." You say, kissing his cheek as you enter the apartment.  
"Oh yeah?" He chuckles, gripping your hip with his healthy hand to pull you back against him, teeth already scraping against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he grinds against you. "Did I get that pretty little pussy wet with that message?"  
Your eyes flutter shut at his words, a breathy moan passing your painted lips.  
"I'm pretty sure Cap could hear the blood rush to my clit from across the table." You tilt your head to give him better access, hissing when he nips at your flesh.  
"America's golden boy was in the room with you?" His dick twitches against the curve of your ass.  
"Oh yeah." You whisper, grinning to yourself. "Does that excite you? Thinking about Cap knowing how wet you make me? That I fantasize about you when he's sitting right there, close enough to hear the blood pounding in my pussy?"  
"Fuck, rookie! When did you get such a filthy mouth?"  
"When I started hanging out with Jack." You roll your hips against him, earning you a low growl as his hand wraps around your throat.   
"Such a filthy fucking whore." His gravelly voice makes your nipples harden and you're sure you're dripping on his hardwood floor. "I bet you wish Jack was here right now, watching you, seeing just how slutty you look right now."   
His hand moves up, thumb slipping between your red lips, caressing your tongue as you suck on the digit.   
"Mmhm." You moan and as if on command Brock begins walking you towards the bedroom.   
"Well, then I have a surprise for you." He chuckles darkly in your ear as you reach out to open the bedroom door.   
  
Facing the bed is a camera, standing on top of a tripod and hooked up to a computer on the floor.   
"See, we're not going to be alone tonight." His thumb slips from your mouth, and his hand reaches into his pocket, taking out his phone. "And now Jack's all set up on his end too."   
The blood rushes to your head, your heart's pounding so hard you can barely hear your next words.  
"Is it safe?"   
Brock hums against your neck and the tension immediately evaporates from your body.  
"It's SHIELD level encryption, rookie. Nobody in here but the three of us."   
You glance at the camera, the little red light blinking tells you it's online and you wonder if Jack can see the warmth spreading from your face down your neck when Brock's hand moves to your breast.  
The nipple pebbles under his fingertips and the lace's gentle friction against your skin make your hips move on their own, rubbing against him as heat pools in your belly.  
"Does it turn you on?" Brock asks, nipping at your neck. "Knowing you're being watched, that even from halfway across the globe Jack can see what a fucking whore you are?"  
"Yes." You whimper as he kneads your breast. "Yes, sir. Please, treat me like the little whore I am, sir."  
The resounding growl has you rubbing your legs together, desperate for any kind of friction to help relieve the almost painful pulsing of your sex.   
His hand disappears from your breast and he nudges you forward before settling on the zipper of your dress.   
"Whores don't get to wear clothes." He says, tone dark and it makes your knees weak as he slips the zipper down your back, fingers caressing the exposed skin as he goes.  
Knowing his limited range of movement you don't make him try to get the dress over your head, and shimmy your way out of it on your own.  
"Fuck yeah." Brock whistles behind you as inch by inch the scarlet lace is revealed, and you find yourself glancing at the camera, hoping to find a sign of approval from the aussie but the only thing greeting you is the blinking red light.  
You haven't had the opportunity to show off your present and while Brock's approval makes you tremble you're also itching to know what Jack thinks.  
Is he touching himself? Is he naked? Is he dressed in his comfy clothes or the suit he uses for that kind of work?  
The hand sneaking between your legs rips you from your thoughts with a moan, Brock's finger sliding between your slick folds as the heel of his hand weighs against your clit.   
"Fuck, brother. You were right to suggest the crotchless panties!" He laughs, thoroughly enjoying your keening as you rub against him.  
So they were Jack's idea then?  
Before you realize it a plan has formulated in your head and you're turning around, facing the dark, lustful eyes of Brock head on.  
He glances down as your hand places itself on his chest but allows himself to be nudged backwards until he's right beside the bed. In a show of immense trust he lets you push him on top of it, careful of his injured shoulder as you prop him up against the pillows.    
You leave his shirt where it is as your hands travel toward his zipper, it would hurt him to remove it now, and you make sure your ass is facing the camera when you undo his jeans.  
You can only guess what Jack thinks about the view but given that Brock's dick is straining against the denim and he's not even on the receiving end, you have a feeling he's not complaining.  
And neither is Brock for that matter, his healthy hand wound in your hair as you slip your own inside his pants, palming his heated flesh.  
The commander is going commando tonight, which makes sense given underwear is a bitch when you only have one functioning hand.  
"Fuck, rookie." Brock hums as the ends of your hair brushes against him.  
"All in good time, sir." You tease, grinning up at him before lowering your lips to him, taking him into your mouth.  
You make sure to wiggle your ass as you go down on him, hoping the camera is able to catch the glistening wetness between your legs, because you swear you can feel it dripping down your thighs.  
Brock's hand in your hair guides you up and down his length, his soft groans permeating the air as you work your tongue against him, lipstick staining his dick as saliva and precum breaks away the "smear-proof" makeup.  
He's starting to work his way down your throat and you swallow obediently around him, the resulting moan making you tremble.  
"Stop, stop." Brock gives your hair a tug, and you release him with an obscene pop, looking up at him through your teary lashes. "As much as I love that fucking mouth of yours it's gonna be the death of me."  
His fingers are now at your lips and your heart nearly beats out of your chest as he smears the remaining lipstick across your skin.  
"Now you look like a proper whore." He muses, staring at your parted lips, and for a moment you wonder if he's going to kiss you. "Time for you to get on your knees though, so how about you face the camera and give a big old smile for our dear Jackie boy."  
You linger at his side, making sure he doesn't need your help in changing positions before you do as you're told, settling on your hands and knees, back arched and smiling into the camera.  
You're under no illusion you look presentable right now, your lips swollen, lipstick and precum covering your chin, and pupils blown wide and blissed out.  
The lipstick has never been part of the equation before but you have a feeling it's going to Jack's new favorite look for you.  
"Think I even need to prep you?" Brock asks behind you, fingers trailing where red lace meets wet skin, goosebumps rising in their wake. "You're so fucking wet, I bet you could take all of me right now without even breaking a sweat."  
A finger brushes your clit and you can't stop your eyes from rolling back in your head with a breathless moan.  
"Oh, you'd actually like that, wouldn't you?" He chuckles, letting his fingers ghost over your clit again as he kisses the small of your back.  
"You'd love being stretched raw on my dick, isn't that right, you filthy little whore?"  
His stubble burns your skin in a delectable way as his lips move ever lower, parting to allow his tongue to lap at your wetness.  
"Please, sir-" You whimper as you arch against his mouth, your body needy for his talented tongue.   
"Hm?" He answers as his teeth graces you clit in a move that makes your arms give out. You must look obscene.   
"Please," Your breath catches in your throat and it's only worsened by Brock's tongue rubbing against your insides. "What you said."  
His hand smacks against your ass, the impact has you rocking forward with a loud moan.  
"You need me to stretch you, do you? Fill you up until you're hurting and then keep going, don't you?" You hear him fumble after something. "Fuck!"  
"What?" You ask, breathless as the want threatens to swallow you whole.  
"Fucking condom fell under the bed." Brock mutters behind you and he's about to move when you grab onto his hand.   
"Fuck the condom, just get inside me."  
The bedroom goes deathly quiet.   
"Are you serious?" Brock's voice is serious but his voice has darkened, he's turned on by the idea.   
"I'm covered on my end." You say as you pull him against you, grinding into him like a fucking fiend. "Please, Brock, I just need you."   
_"If you're sure."_ hangs between you and you face the camera again, forcing your arms to work you into the perfect position for Jack. You pray he hasn't stopped watching.   
The sensation of Brock's skin against yours is intoxicating as he nudges your legs further apart, positioning himself behind you as he begins to make his way inside you.   
He's thick and wide, his heated flesh filling you, delving ever deeper, spreading you open until you're on the verge of tears.  
You wonder if Jack can tell and if so what is he thinking?  
"I'm not hearing you, whore." Brock growls behind you, he's squeezing your hip so hard you know you'll have bruises in the morning. "Does it feel good?"  
"Y-yes." You stammer, unable to keep the tears out of your voice even as you rock back against him.  
"You don't sound so sure about that." You can hear the smugness in his words.  
As if to prove a point his movements turns to thrusts and as your arms give out once again there's nothing left to do but cry out as he begins fucking you into the mattress.  
His hips pistons against you, balls slapping against your clit with every bruising stroke, and although the discomfort is overwhelming every slap against you is making your blood sing.  
Brock's thrusts are almost violent now and it takes everything you have not to be fucked off the bed, struggling against the force behind the commander's hips as he fucks you open.  
With every thrust you lose yourself more and more, pleasure playing into the discomfort as your sounds grow louder, whimpers mixing with Brock's growls as you can do nothing but hold on as he fucks you towards a mind-shattering orgasm.

When you're both spent, and Brock is catching his breath on the bed you reach for his phone.   
Your fingerprint is saved in the device and it enables you to open both it and the secure messaging app you use for your three-way conversations.  
A picture of a very impressive, recently spent dick greets you, and it's with a grin you read the following message.  
_"Please tell me we're keeping those fucking panties!"_


End file.
